


What I couldn't Tell You

by wasureukiyo



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Akaashi Keiji Is So Done, Angst, Bokuto Koutarou Being Bokuto Koutarou, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Lack of Communication, Language of Flowers, Lies, Like reallly sorry, M/M, Oblivious Bokuto Koutarou, One-Sided Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, POV Akaashi Keiji, Please Don't Hate Me, Unrequited Love, dense Bokuto, hurt akaashi, i cant tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-23 14:55:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23713285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wasureukiyo/pseuds/wasureukiyo
Summary: “The Hanahaki disease?” his grandmother suggested a small but knowing smile on her face.“Yes! What is that?” he asked curiously. She put her knitting supplies aside, patting her legs for the boy to climb onto. Keiji didn’t hesitate to run over to his grandmother. He wiggled around in her lap, leaning against her for further comfort.“it’s a disease where you cough up flowers.” Her hand dropped from the boy’s hair, opting to wrap them around him in a small hug.“Flowers?”“Yes, flowers,” she confirmed, “your lungs fill up with your loved one’s favorite flower, you cough them up until they block your airways and choke you. You die of unrequited love.”---Or Akaashi Keiji gets the Hanahaki disease.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou
Comments: 12
Kudos: 112





	What I couldn't Tell You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StephiesR2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StephiesR2/gifts).



> Soo, this is it, my first Haikyuu fic. It's kinda proofread but it might have mistakes. I hope you like it. Here's the playlist of this fanfic in case you want to listen to music while reading [here](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/21k1CrEb8sMfKeuWOnaYBr). Anyway, enjoy and good luck!
> 
> [Edit Nov/2020]: I finally got around rereading and checking this, and let me just say: to whoever read this in the past six months I'M SO SORRY you had to read horrible grammar mistakes. The work itself isn't betad, but I think I managed to correct most mistakes.

**_ Hanahaki Disease _ **

_An illness born from unrequited love, where the patient’s throat will fill up with flowers, they will then proceed to throw, and cough up the petals, (sometimes even the flowers). One of the only ways for the disease to ‘disappear’ is if, the said person returns the feeling (it can’t be resolved with friendship, it has to be genuine feelings of love). The infection can also be removed through surgery, though the feelings disappear along with the petals. If they choose nether options, or the feeling is not returned in time, then the patient’s lungs will fill up with flowers, and will eventually suffocate._

The first time Keiji heard about it, he was seven. Young, naïve and unknowing to some of the cruelties love could cause.

It was a rainy day in Tokyo, meaning he couldn’t go out to play at the park. Instead, he sat on the floor playing with some of his toys. His grandmother was sitting in her armchair, knitting a scarf for her grandson. His parents had gone out about an hour ago. Keiji had heard them talking about visiting the neighbor’s daughter, who had caught some strange disease. He couldn’t remember the name correctly; he only knew it had to do with flowers.

Thunder rumbled in the distance and the drizzle turned into a storm. Keiji looked out the window, dark clouds covered the whole sky, obscuring everything. He looks back at his grandmother, who was concentrating on knitting as she hums a random tune.

“Nana,” Keiji calls out hesitantly, his grandmother stops what she's doing to give him her attention, “where did mom and dad go?”

“To the hospital dear,” she says, averting her gaze back to the scarf, “they went to visit someone.”

“I heard them talking,” Keiji admits bashfully, aware that he isn’t supposed to eavesdrop, “they were saying something about a disease, the Hanabako, Hana- “

“The Hanahaki disease?” his grandmother suggests with a small but knowing smile on her face.

“Yes! What is that?” Keiji asks curiously. His grandmother puts her knitting supplies aside and pats her legs for the boy to climb onto. Keiji doesn’t hesitate to run over to his grandmother. He climbs into her lap, wiggling around to get comfortable and leaning against her chest.

“You know what love is, don’t you dear?” she asks the boy. Keiji nods, confusion clear on his face, not understanding what love had to do with a disease, “love should be mutual, however, there are times when your love for someone isn’t reciprocated,” his grandmother explains. Keiji furrows his eyebrows.

“Reciprocated?” Keiji asks, not understanding the meaning of the word.

“It’s when your feelings aren’t returned,” she replies, stroking a hand through his hair, “when someone doesn’t love you back.”

“But, what happens if someone doesn’t love you back?” Keiji inquires, trying his best to connect the pieces to understand, “do you get the Hanahaki disease?”

“Exactly,” she says, her hand stilling at the top of Keiji’s head, “it’s a disease where you cough up flowers.” Her hand drops from the boy’s hair, opting to wrap them around him in a small hug.

“Flowers?” Keiji questions in mild disbelief.

“Yes, flowers,” she confirms, “your lungs fill up with your loved one’s favorite flower, you cough them up until they block your airways and choke you. You die of unrequited love.”

Keiji frowns, he doesn’t like how that sounds, it seems like a painful and cruel way to die.

“Does it have a cure?” he questions, hands fidgeting in his lap. He doesn’t think it’s fair how someone could die from loving another person too much.

“It does,” she reassures, “either your love is reciprocated or you get a surgery. However, you’ll never be able to love that person again.”

Keiji nods, understanding, he looks at his grandma and hugs her tightly, burying his face on her shoulder.

“I hope I never get the Hanahaki disease nana,” Keiji wishes.

“I hope so too, my dear.” She states sincerely, hugging him back, “I really do.”

☆☆☆

_10 years later_

“AKAASHI!”

Keiji slightly flinches, he really should be used to Bokuto’s loud voice at this point, with the boy shouting his name or any incoherent thing more often than not, Keiji really should. The thing is, he isn’t, because despite having spent time with Bokuto throughout his first year of high school, Keiji can’t find it in himself to be completely comfortable around the other boy. He often blames it on his general awkwardness around people, but a part of him knows it’s more than that. Acknowledging whatever that is, however, is another story.

“Yes Bokuto-san?” Keiji asks turning around. The other boy beams at him.

“Can you stay later after practice to help me with my spikes?” Bokuto requests clasping his hands together in a hopeful stance, “please? The match is in three days and I really want to make sure I’m ready.”

Keiji sighs, he’s tired and the idea of heading home, taking a bath and going to sleep sounds really tempting. However, a part of him, the bigger one, can’t really resist to his captain’s requests. It isn’t like Bokuto even needs the extra practice. Judging by how their last days of practice had gone, the spiker seems to be in top form (Keiji really hopes so). Despite that, Bokuto is still his friend and Keiji can’t find it within himself to throw away the extra minutes he could spend with the older boy.

“Fine, but not too long,” Keiji says giving Bokuto a stern look. The other boy only smiles widely.

“YES! You’re the best Akaashi!” he exclaims, running to give Keiji a quick hug before rushing off to set up the net.

Keiji stands in place frozen. He feels heat slowly creep up his face, settling on a soft pink blush on his cheeks. For a brief moment, the only thing he hears is his heart beating loudly on his ears, and feels it hammering against his chest. He knows what those signs meant, even so, just like each time something similar happens, he decides to ignore it. It isn’t something he could afford to dwell on.

“Akaashi!” Bokuto shouts from the other side of the court, “c’mon let’s practice!”

Keiji takes a deep breath, closing his eyes to allow his heartbeat to even out. He gulps loudly, trying to untangle the knot forming in his throat. He turns around and walks towards where Bokuto has the ball cart, holding a ball between his hands. He smiles at Keiji, moving into position so he can spike. They fall into routine easily, one where Keiji would toss and Bokuto would spike. Keiji’s mind is clear, no homework to worry about or upcoming exams, and specially, not growing feelings for a certain owl-haired captain.

☆☆☆

The next day Keiji walks through the school entrance alone. Generally, he is accompanied by a boisterous third year; however, Bokuto had sent him a text earlier, informing him that he had overslept and apologizing for not joining Keiji on their usual morning walk to school. They don’t live nearby, but one day their timing coincided, both realizing that at some point their paths merged and decided to make it a habit to go to school together. Sometimes Keiji wonders why Bokuto spends so much time with him. He isn’t complaining but, Bokuto is a third year. It isn’t necessarily unusual, but it also isn’t common for a third year to hang out with an underclassman. Mostly couples did that.

Keiji tightens the grip on his bag, maneuvering his thoughts away from that topic.

He walks over to the clubroom to get ready for morning practice, focusing rather on strategy for their upcoming match than in thoughts about romance. Keiji isn’t against romance or couples, it’s just a topic he doesn’t feel comfortable with, hence why he prefers avoiding it. When Keiji arrives, he notices most of the members changing into their sportswear, joking and laughing loudly.

“Yo! Akaashi!” Konoha shouts, walking over to him and throwing his arm around his shoulder, “where’s Bokuto?”

“Bokuto-san woke up late apparently,” Keiji announces while shrugging off the other boy’s arm, he turns to his locker, placing his bag there in order to take out his clothes, “he’s gonna be late.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” comments Washio from across the room, “he sets like five alarms and still manages to sleep through each one.”

As the rest of the third years laugh, Keiji smiles lightly. There are a few second years on their team, but with Keiji being the only first-string player, he finds it easier to get along with the third years. He isn’t always completely comfortable but he can attribute that to their age difference. It isn’t like they were far apart, yet Keiji also doesn’t spend most of his day with them, except for lunch and practice. After securing his place as the main setter, they had taken Keiji under their wing and treated him as if he was also a third year. Even so, there are still moments where their differences are as clear as water. And with graduation approaching, it makes Keiji painfully aware that he’s probably going to get left behind.

Just as they are about to walk out of the club room, someone bursts through the door. The person doubles over, placing his hands on his knees to catch his breath. Keiji stares at the mess of black and white hair, strands of it falling over the person’s face. Upon raising his face Keiji’s eyes widen, realizing the person is in fact Bokuto. It isn’t the first time Keiji sees him without the ridiculous hairstyle that he somehow manages to pull off. However, it has been a while. Keiji feels his cheeks warming, and opts to look away before the older realizes he’s been staring.

“I’m sorry, I overslept,” Bokuto explains between huffs of air, still trying to catch his breath.

“Tsk, shouldn’t the captain be setting the example?” Konoha teases, walking over to slap Bokuto on the shoulder, “how do you manage to miss your alarms?” the boy questions.

Bokuto grimaces ignoring Konoha’s comment in favor of walking to where Keiji was trying to busy himself by pretending to search something in his bag. He was purposely avoiding to look at Bokuto.

“Akaashi, I’m so sorry,” Bokuto says, sighing dramatically and pouting, “I couldn’t walk to school with you today.”

Keiji hears the other members shuffling through the door as they make their way to the gym, someone shouting something about them “hurrying up”. Once the clubroom is empty Keiji shuts his locker door and turns to Bokuto, who’s still sulking, with a smile he hopes doesn’t look too forced.

“Don’t worry about it Bokuto-san, it’s not like you have to,” Keiji reassures, the other boy looks up to him, a small smile gracing his lips. Keiji tries to avoid eye contact, knowing too well that if he continues to stare at Bokuto in his current state, a blush was sure to appear on his face.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the best?” Bokuto comments smiling up at Keiji, who only coughs and looked away, his cheeks warm. Bokuto turns around and walks to his locker, taking out his uniform. Keiji avoids looking at the boy as he changes, wondering if he should wait for him or just leave, in the end opting for the former. Even if he tries to leave Bokuto will probably ask him to stay. He watches as Bokuto pulls out a bottle of hair gel and a mirror, styling his hair in the usual up do. Keiji ignores the slight feeling of disappointment in his gut at not seeing his captain with his hair down anymore.

“Oh, I almost forgot, Akaashi I’ve got you something,” Bokuto says, reaching into his bag and pulling out a single flower, the stem is slightly bent, but the rest of it is perfectly kept. It’s a carnation. He hands it over to Keiji, who’s standing in place speechless, barely managing to grasp the flower, “I saw it on my way here and thought about you.”

“B-but, um, w-why?” Keiji stutters out, mentally scolding himself for not being more articulate. Bokuto only smiles, shutting the door of his own locker.

“Well, carnations are your favorite flower right?” Bokuto reasons flashing the younger a bright smile. Keiji gulps and nods, turning back to his locker to place the flower there, making a mental note to put it in water after practice was over. He shuts the locker door, walking to where Bokuto is waiting for him by the door. His heartbeat beating at a thousand miles per second.

☆☆☆

The rest of the day passes in a blur. However, for Keiji there were some remarkable moments. Aside from what happened in the morning. During lunch, while sat on their usual spot by the clubroom’s steps, Bokuto had declared that he was tired, despite having overslept the same morning, and begged Keiji to let him lay his head on his lap. Keiji could only comply, ignoring the teasing remarks sent by the other third years in his and Bokuto’s way.

After the afternoon practice, Bokuto had once more begged Keiji for extra practice, and since he was in a good mood, Keiji didn’t even have to consider it. He stayed behind with Bokuto in the gym as the others left. They did their usual routine, Keiji noticing the good shape Bokuto was in. If the ace continued this way until Friday, their win in the upcoming match was granted.

“Akaashi! Your sets are just the best!” Bokuto exclaims after hitting a successful line shot, giving Keiji a dashing smile. Keiji falters in his movements, his heart picking up, and eyes wide. He stares at Bokuto who’s picking another ball from the cart to continue practice. The older spins the ball in his hands, dribbling it a few times. He looks back at Keiji, giving him a warmer and softer smile, “I wish you could be my setter forever.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Bokuto-san,” Keiji comments dismissively, yet inside, he might be a mess. His stomach is churning, and he can feel his heart slowly rising in his throat. Warmth spreads across his body, and he’s mildly aware that he’s blushing, “you’re gonna graduate soon.”

Bokuto pouts, staring down at the ball. He then looks up at Keiji and offers him a small smile.

“Well, the I guess I have to enjoy my remaining time with you.”

It was in that moment that Keiji knew he was fucked. In that split of a moment he accepts that he might undeniably have feelings for Bokuto Koutarou.

☆☆☆

Keiji walks out of his bathroom, freshly showered and changed into pajamas. He makes a beeline for his bed and slumps there, unmoving for a few moments and basking in the warmth of his comforter before rolling on his back. He stares at the ceiling, recalling the day’s events. He has known for a while about his growing feelings for his captain and friend, yet he usually tries to deny them in favor of keeping things as normal as possible. Keiji isn’t going to fall under the illusion that Bokuto might like him back, no matter how much the older boy compliments him or invades his personal space. But at the same time, today’s event must mean something right?

Keiji clears his throat, feeling a sudden itch. He the proceeds to cough a few times to get rid of it, but to no avail. It only makes Keiji groan internally, he can’t be catching a cold. Not now when they have a game in a few days. Sighing, Keiji reluctantly stands up from his bed and walks downstairs to the kitchen. His mother is still awake, finishing with washing up the dishes, while humming a song. Keiji has a good relationship with both of his parents, even so he always finds his preference inclining towards his mother. It doesn’t matter what situation he finds himself in, or how anxious he could be getting, his mother has always been there to support him.

“Mom?” Keiji calls out hesitantly.

“What is it Keiji?” she asks in a soft voice. It’s probably what Keiji likes best about his mother, the soothing tone of her voice. It never fails to calm him down.

“My throat hurts, do we have cough syrup?” he asks her, a dry cough making its way out of his throat to emphasize his request, “I have a game in a few days and I don’t want to get sick,” He explains. His mother turns off the faucet, drying her hands with a towel and patting them on her apron for good measure.

Keiji watches as she moves to one of the cabinets, instead of pulling out some cough syrup though, she takes out a cup with an owl print – the one Keiji had received as a gift from Bokuto. Keiji watches perplexed as she moves to a drawer and pulls out a small bag of ginger tea. Finally, she walks to open another cabinet and pull out the cough syrup. Keiji makes a mental note of where the medicine is kept. His mother sets the items on the counter and moves to turn on the stove.

“Mom you don’t have-,” Keiji begins but is quickly interrupted by her.

“No ‘buts’ Keiji,” she states in a stern voice, turning around to look at the young boy, “if you really don’t want to get sick then you should also drink some ginger tea.” She finishes, turning around to continue preparing the beverage.

Keiji mutters a small ‘thank you’ before propping his arms on the table and settling his head between them. There is a certain beauty in watching his mom cook, or do anything really. She moves around gracefully as she sets the kettle on the stove, waiting for the water to boil while looking for a spoon to pour the syrup in. Once done, she turns around and walks towards Keiji, offering him the spoon with medicine, giving him a soft smile. Keiji thanks her drinking the syrup, and handing her the spoon back. She turns around once again upon hearing the kettle boil and carefully pours the tea into the cup. She sets it down in front of Keiji, walking to get a seat in the opposite side of him.

“So,” his mother starts, clapping her hands together. Keiji picks up the cup and blows over it to dispel some of the steam, he takes a small sip, feeling the warm drink rush down and soothe his aching throat, “I went into your room while you were showering to pick up your laundry and saw a flower on a water bottle,” she comments nonchalantly, though her eyes told a different story.

Keiji feels his cheeks getting warm.

“Did a girl confess to you?” she asks, biting her lip to prevent her from smiling. Keiji rolls his eyes playfully.

“As if,” he says, taking another sip from his drink and shrugging, “it was actually Bokuto-san, he said he saw it on his way to school and remembered it was my favorite flower.” Keiji tries to play it off as the most common thing ever, though truth to be told, his heart still picks up its pace upon remembering that event. His mother’s eyes soften, a warm smile spreading across her lips.

“Koutarou-kun is such a sweet boy,” she comments, “I haven’t seen him in a while, you should bring him more often.”

Keiji only nods, finishing up his tea, standing up and walking to the sink to wash it. He feels his mother’s hand on his arm, the other one coming up to pry the cup of his hands.

“Don’t worry about it sweetheart, I’ve got it,” she insists, moving Keiji aside and planting a small kiss on his forehead, “Go to sleep, you must be really tired.”

“Thank you, mom,” he thanks her, kissing her cheek, “good night.” He walked up the stairs to his room, feeling the drowsiness taking over. Once again he silently thanks his mom for the tea, since it would probably help him sleep.

Keiji checks his phone, seeing one message from Bokuto.

**_[Bokuto-san]:_ ** _Good night Akaashi!!!!_

Keiji smiles, unlocking his phone and typing a quick reply.

**_[Me]:_ ** _Good night Bokuto-san._

He sets his phone back on the night stand and slips under the bed covers. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep, a small smile etched on his face.

☆☆☆

_“Ah Akaashi! Look!” Bokuto exclaims while running ahead, leaving the first year behind. He stops in front of a park, aligned with rows of bushes dressed in different flowers. The colors varied greatly, painting the whole place in spring. Above them, cherry trees had begun to blossom, a few stray petals being swept away by the lingering winter breeze. Bokuto crouches in front of a specific bush. It held several small pink flowers, covered in various layers of petals. “What’s your favorite flower?”_

_“Favorite flower?” Keiji asks. He crouches beside Bokuto, admiring the flower. He turns to look at the older boy, noticing how the ghost of a smile settled on his face. The sun is setting, and the stray rays of sunshine were caught within Bokuto’s features, his golden eyes shining brightly. Keiji briefly feels as if the air has been knocked out of him._

_“Yeah, mines are Peonies,” Bokuto tells him while pointing at the same pink flowers they had been staring at. He turns to look at Keiji, rubbing the back of his neck and smiling sheepishly, “I know, it doesn’t seem very manly right?”_

_“I just didn’t take you for a flower guy in general Bokuto-san,” Keiji replies, smiling reassuringly at the other boy. It seemed to do the trick because Bokuto visibly relaxed._

_“It’s because of their meaning,” Bokuto explains, opting to take a seat on the grass. Keiji mirrors his action, pulling his legs against his chest, arms circling around them, and head resting against his knees. “Do you know the meaning of peonies?” the older boy asks._

_Keiji just shook his head._

_“It means bravery,” Bokuto states. He looks up at the cherry trees, watching the petals dance in the wind. Both of them stay quiet for a while, watching the flowers and enjoying the remains of the fresh weather. That is, until Bokuto speaks up again, “so what are your favorite flowers?”_

_Keiji remains silent for a while, repeating the question in his head. He had never put much thought to it before. He doesn’t know much about flowers, except for the ones he’s helped his mom plant in the garden, let alone their meanings. Despite that, he can recall one flower that always caught his attention._

_“I guess carnations,” Keiji declares, turning his head to look at Bokuto, allowing a smile to settle on his lips, “I don’t know their meaning though,” He adds._

_“It means fascination and love,” Bokuto informs him, he smirks at Keiji bumping the younger’s shoulder. Keiji feels his face heat up slightly, he has a slight idea where the conversation is heading, “tell me Akaashi are you secretly in love with someone?”_

_Keiji thinks about it, though he can’t seem to recall having a crush on anyone. Romance isn’t really at the top of his head at the moment. He recalls on the other meaning. ‘Fascination’. Keiji smiles lightly, that is a word he often associates with a rambunctious, owl-haired second year._

_“Mmmhh no,” Keiji says, watching the way the sun bathes Bokuto in honey, “I don’t think I am.”_

Keiji wakes up to a coughing fit. He feels as if his lungs are being squeezed, his throat aching as he fights for air. It feels as if something has crawled up his throat and for a moment he fears that maybe he had swallowed an insect in his sleep.

Once he manages to get his breathing under control he sits up and stares at his pillow. Keiji freezes immediately, dread filling his stomach. He realizes that maybe an insect crawling up his throat would’ve been a better cause for his coughing fit.

Yet there on his bed laid scattered petals. _Peony petals._

Another wave of coughing makes its way up his throat. Keiji rushes to his bathroom, barely managing to open the toilet lid before more petals spill out of his mouth. He coughs them out, watching as the water swayed pink. It was only four petals, but it was enough to scare Keiji. His throat feels sore and suddenly the itch he felt earlier made sense.

Keiji groans which only adds to the sore feeling in his throat. He stands up from the floor and flushes the toilet, watching the petals swirl until they disappeared. He walks to the sink and brushes his teeth to get rid of the feeling.

Once back on his bed Keiji tosses and turns, fear and anxiousness seizing each of his nerves. He knows what the petals mean, he also knows the cause of it. The Hanahaki disease isn’t uncommon, it often happens with high schoolers, he’s going to be fine. Except he doesn’t feel like he’s going to be fine because he recalls his grandmother’s words and ‘Die from unrequited love’ is ringing in his head.

Despite what had happened earlier in the day, Keiji doesn’t want to jump into conclusions and assume that Bokuto liked him back. Because as much as Keiji hates to admit it, it probably is just Bokuto being overly friendly, it could be possible. Bokuto is pretty popular, especially after becoming captain of the volleyball team.

Keiji sighs, it is the last thing he wants to be dealing with, exams are near and the preliminaries for the Spring Tournament aren’t that far behind either. So for now, Keiji decides to push these thoughts at the back of his head and concentrate on trying to manage at least a few more hours of sleep.

☆☆☆

In the end he didn’t manage to get any. It was to be expected, still Keiji is in a bad mood.

His mom had made a fuss when he had walked downstairs that morning looking as pale as snow. She made him another tea, provided him with a handful of pills, and wrapped him up in a scarf to keep him warm.

He grimaces while walking to the spot where he usually meets up with Bokuto. He had managed to cough more petals throughout the night and if he’s being honest it’s starting to become downright terrifying. Just the thought of having to go to school in that condition fills him with dread from head to toe.

“Woah Akaashi! Are you okay?” Keiji snaps away from his thoughts and looks up at Bokuto, who has worry etched all over his face, “you look like death all over.”

“Well, good morning to you too,” Keiji says, it comes off harsher than he had intended to, with the way Bokuto flinches. Keiji sighs, “don’t worry, it’s just a cold.”

“Are you sure?” Bokuto inquires, his hand moving to rest on Keiji’s forehead, the younger boy fights the urge to blush, “hmmm you don’t feel hot, so I guess it’s fine.” Bokuto states, looking pensive, “Are you going to be okay for Friday’s match?”

“Yeah, I’ll just rest more,” Keiji tells him as he begins to walk their usual path to school, Bokuto following right behind, “don’t worry too much Bokuto-san.”

“How can I not worry?” Bokuto scoffs, crossing his arms, “my best friend is sick, of course I’m worried.”

Keiji’s heart aches a little a that. ‘Best Friends’. He loves and hates that word. Loves how it means he was really special to Bokuto, but hates how it also sets a barrier to prevent it from escalating into something more. They walk in silence, Keiji feeling the now familiar itch in his throat. It probably is a bad idea to have Bokuto so close, seeing as the older is the cause of Keiji’s current problem. Once they reach the schools gate they immediately walk to the club room.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto calls out, catching the other’s attention. Keiji raises an eyebrow at him. Bokuto offers a sheepish smile, clearing his throat, “I- uh- I think you should maybe skip practice, since you’re sick.”

Keiji shakes his head, managing a small smile, “I’ll be fine Bokuto-san.” Bokuto seems like he wants to protest, but Keiji beats him to it by opening the clubroom’s doors. They are met with Konoha’s usual bout of drama.

“She was sooo pretty,” Konoha whines, resting his head against his locker, “Saru, do you think I should-”

“Hey hey hey!” Bokuto exclaims, immediately walking over to the rest of the third years. Keiji shuffles to his locker to get changed since he isn’t in much of a mood to meddle, “who’s pretty? Who are we talking about?”

“Apparently it’s a second year,” Komi comments snickering and slapping Konoha on the head, “I think she’s in your class Akaashi.” They all turned to look at Keiji expectantly, who just stands there perplexed.

“What?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Is she in your class?” Konoha askes, looking mildly hopeful. If Keiji didn’t know better he’d think Konoha’s interest is genuine, yet he knows the boy manages to change interests each week.

“Umm who exactly?” Keiji inquires, there are plenty of girls in his class who could fall into the category of pretty. Keiji generally doesn’t focus too much on the girls in his year, but he is very well capable of appreciating natural beauty.

“Fujiwara Aiko,” Konoha says with a dreamy sigh, laying his head on Bokuto’s shoulder. Keiji instantly knows who Konoha is referring to. Fujiwara is pretty popular among the second years in the sense that most boys were drooling over her. It mildly surprises Keiji that Konoha had managed this long without taking notice of the girl

“Ah yes, I believe she’s in the art club,” Keiji answers, turning back to his locker so he could finish changing into his uniform.

“Oh I know her!” Bokuto exclaims loudly, “fair skin, short black hair with bangs right?” That caught Keiji’s attention.

“How do you know her?” Konoha questions, narrowing his eyes and jabbing Bokuto in the chest with his finger. Bokuto chuckles and waves his hand in the air dismissively.

“Well Suzumeda was running late to an appointment and asked me to drop her homework for art, when I reached the art room she was there,” Bokuto explains, “she was pretty cute, exuded a lot of confidence too.”

Konoha groans annoyed, muttering something about how Bokuto was going to steal her away from him. The other began teasing Konoha about how if there was someone who could get to date Fujiwara it was either Bokuto or Keiji. Keiji ignores all of that, his thought occupied with the words ‘she was pretty cute’ from Bokuto. Suddenly, he feels a wave of nausea hit him, the now familiar feeling of petals crawling up his throat being present. Without a second thought, he dashes out of the clubroom in search for the nearest bathroom, ignoring the shouts of concern from his teammates. He had barely managed to open one of the stalls and shut it behind him before pink petals began spilling out of his mouth. He coughs them out, counting five swirling on the water now turned pink due to the few drops of blood that accompanied the coughing. A shiver runs through Keiji’s body, making his breath shorten. He pulls his knees against his chest, resting his head against them.

So far he has two options: telling Bokuto about his feelings or telling his parents and getting the operation. In all honesty, none of the options seem appealing to him. Despite Bokuto’s behavior as of lately, Keiji doesn’t have the certainty to assume the older boy liked him back. And getting rid of his feelings for Bokuto seems dreadful too. When Keiji thinks about it, Bokuto is such a lovable person. With his golden eyes and salt and pepper hair, ridiculously styled in a way that makes him resemble a horned owl. And sure, he has all these mood swings but that just demonstrates how passionate the boy is about volleyball. Keiji still remembers the time when he watched Bokuto in the gym during his last year of middle school, how this boy screamed ‘star’ in his eyes. Bokuto is the main reason why he chose Fukurodani, and now here they are as best friends. Nevertheless, Keiji wants more, and it’s that selfish thought that leads him to the present. To this foolish disease that makes him cough up Bokuto’s favorite flower. It’s ridiculous.

“Akaashi? Are you alright?” there’s a knock on the door and Keiji recognizes Bokuto’s voice, softened almost to a whisper. Keiji sighs, wipes his mouth with toilet paper and flushes the toilet. He stands up and gathers all his courage to muster a small smile. He opens the door and is met with the sight of Bokuto’s worried expression.

“I’m alright now,” Keiji tries to reassure, “I was just a little nauseous, that’s all.”

“I told the rest of the team that you were sick,” Bokuto informs him, looking at Keiji with a serious expression, he places both of his hands on Keiji’s shoulders, “we’ve all come to the agreement that you should skip practice today and rest.”

“Bokuto-san I’m fin-”

“No, you’re not Akaashi, you just threw up, what about that seems ‘fine’ to you?” Bokuto asks, his eyebrows raising, “it’s not debatable, you do want to play in the game on Friday right?” Keiji looks at his shoes, nodding softly, “then you should rest all you can, c’mon let me take you to the infirmary,” Bokuto says, pulling Keiji along with him.

Panic starts rising on Keiji’s chest. He can’t go to the infirmary, let alone with Bokuto. The nurse would definitely know what’s happening to him and that would put Keiji in an even more complex situation. Keiji grabs Bokuto’s wrist, stopping them both on their tracks.

“It’s okay Bokuto-san, I can go on my own,” Keiji tells him calmly, trying to sound as convincing as possible, Bokuto seems like he’s about to protest but Keiji cuts him off, “you should get back to practice, I want my ace in top condition.”

Bokuto purses his lips, looking unsure. However, it manages to do the trick and after more reassuring that ‘No Bokuto-san, I won’t faint on the way there’ the third year leaves Keiji for practice. Keiji sighs in relief, and walks to towards the main building. If he isn’t going to go to the infirmary, he could at least get some rest in his classroom.

The rest of the day passes by slowly, but Bokuto seems to be more attentive of Keiji than usual, constantly asking him how is he feeling, asking him if he had gone to the infirmary (Keiji didn’t want to lie to him but there was no way he was going to go), and just overall being fussy over Keiji’s current state. Keiji also didn’t seem to visit the bathroom to cough up petals as constantly as he thought he would, except when the other third years brought back up the subject of Fujiwara and a ‘Bokuto, would you date her if she confessed?’, answered with an ‘I don’t know, maybe?’ that resulted in Keiji excusing himself so he could go to the bathroom to throw up some more peonies. That afternoon Keiji left school with a promise to Bokuto that ‘Yes Bokuto-san, I’ll stay at home tomorrow and rest’, and despite trying to sound annoyed, in all honesty Keiji left in school with his heart feeling warm.

☆☆☆

The next day as promised, Keiji decided to stay at home. It isn’t difficult to convince his parents, especially his mother who’s very adamant on taking care of him until she had to leave for work. Keiji lays in his bed, his mind clouded with exhaustion. His throat is sore and his chest aches with every breath he takes.

Keiji had looked for information about the Hanahaki disease on the internet the previous night. He found out that the disease had certain “stages”. The first one consists of coughing up 3 to 4 petals, it isn’t too alarming but it is like a warning for the person to take action against it. The second stage is coughing up 5 to 7 petals. It’s the stage Keiji currently finds himself in. It was also accompanied by coughing up blood, which alarms Keiji. By this stage people should either confess or take the surgery to prevent further damage to their respiratory system. The third stage consists of an increase in petals until the person coughs 8 to 10 petals, along with more blood. Finally, the last stage is coughing up the whole flower. If a person reaches that stage the best solution should be to take the surgery. Keiji decided right there that he wasn’t going to reach the final stage. He doesn’t want to risk his life.

All of that, however, leads him to the action course he has to take. Confessing or getting the surgery. Getting the surgery was the easiest method, he could get rid of the disease without facing his feelings and fearing rejection. However, confessing meant there is a possibility of having his feelings reciprocated. Keiji thinks back to Bokuto, and how he had treated him with utmost care. He had stayed glued to Keiji’s side at any possible moment, asking over and over about how he felt and if he needed anything. It has to mean something. Confessing is a scary course, but Keiji is quite certain that it’s a safe one. Even if Bokuto did reject him, which Keiji hopes isn’t the case, he could get the surgery and get it over with.

With that Keiji makes up his mind. Tomorrow after the match he’s going to confess to Bokuto.

☆☆☆

When Friday morning came, Keiji notes that he isn’t feeling any better. He isn’t getting worse, yet the exhaustion is more overwhelming than ever. Even so, he tries his best to hide it from his parents, not only that but these past days Keiji had flushed so many petals down the toilet he’s surprised it hasn’t clogged up yet.

He has a good relationship with his parents, but telling them about the disease growing inside him would only manage to make them worry, which would also lead them to force him to have the surgery. But today was the day, he had made his mind about confessing, even though the whole idea made him cringe, it was for the best to get over this problem.

Convincing Bokuto that he was alright proves to be a little harder with how much the older boy seems to be fussing over him. In other circumstances, it would have probably annoyed Keiji to a certain extent, but now it just fills his heart with warmth and a buzz similar to the singing of cicadas in the summer. They walk to school normally, Keiji trying his best to keep himself from spilling flowers and causing a scene.

Despite his initial nervousness, once the afternoon comes and they prepare for the match, Keiji’s body seems to switch into autopilot. He goes through his normal routine of changing without any disturbance and is taping a few of his fingers when this peace is disrupted.

“Hey! Hey! Hey! Akaaaaashi!” Bokuto exclaims, coming up behind him and squeezing Keiji’s shoulders with his hands. Keiji jumps slightly, and barely musters up an indifferent expression before turning to look at Bokuto, “how’s my favorite setter doing? Are you okay?” Bokuto asks, and despite the smile gracing his features, Keiji can recognize the glint of worry in his golden eyes. Keiji tries to ignore his heart picking up at the ‘favorite setter’ part.

“Yes Bokuto-san, for the hundredth time, I’m alright,” Keiji reassures him, placing one of his hands over Bokuto’s and offering him a small smile. Bokuto relaxes and nods giving Keiji a small smile and lets his hands drop to his side. Keiji immediately misses the warmth of Bokuto’s hands. The captain turns around and walks around the clubroom, trying to encourage everyone and shake them out of their anxiousness.

It’s one of the things that Keiji likes the most about Bokuto. How despite being simple minded and having mood swings during matches, he actually is a great captain. It’s always in the most critical moments, those where Keiji feels as if the team is going to fall apart, that Bokuto manages to raise them back, and then, there are moments like these, where he doesn’t allow the team to crumble before the match starts.

“It’s time! Remember, we are going to beat them!” Bokuto yells, clapping his hands, “can I get a hey! Hey! Hey!” Keiji chuckles as the other third years roll their eyes but comply nonetheless. Bokuto gives them one last encouraging smile before he begins walking out of the clubroom to head to the gymnasium where chants could be heard.

Keiji stays behind, he gathers his thoughts one last time, trying to erase every thought that revolves around Bokuto and isn’t related to the match. Like how caring he had been during the past few days, or his blinding smile, bright as constellations littering the night sky, or his soft yet simplistic nature. His throat itches and constricts, successfully cutting off Keiji’s train of thought. He coughs into his hand, the small pink petal barely stained in red slipping through his fingers and onto the floor. He’s thankful that the room is empty, and no one’s able to witness that. Keiji takes a towel out of his bag and wipes the blood off his mouth. He then takes a big gulp of water to wash down the acid feeling and pops a menthol candy to soothe his aching throat. Keiji sighs, he just has to go through with the match and then it would all be over, regardless of Bokuto’s answer. As much as Keiji hates to admit it, he had hopes, because Bokuto’s actions as of lately must have to meant something. With those final thoughts, he walks out of the clubroom to join his teammates, his mind leaving all thoughts of one Bokuto Koutarou behind, to concentrate in the game.

☆☆☆

It’s bad.

Keiji can’t concentrate. He’s often feeling out of breath and his mind hazing at the edges, which makes it incredibly difficult to plan strategies. His muscles react slower too, complaining at the exhaustion that seeps through his bones. He had merely managed to avoid making too many mistakes. Even so, he feels like in any given moment he’s going faint. Keiji vaguely entertains the idea of calling a time out and asking the coach to bench him, but he discards it almost immediately. He wants to play. He wants to be the one to give Bokuto the winning toss, but things aren’t looking so bright on their side. They had managed to seize the first set but now the marker was 22 against 19. They weren’t too far behind but Keiji isn’t sure about how much longer he could last.

A whistle blows, signaling a time out. The team gathers at the side of the court, Keiji can feel Bokuto’s gaze burning holes into him and even before he opens his mouth Keiji knows what the ace is going to say.

“Coach, I think you should sit Akaashi for a while;” Bokuto suggests, turning to the other team members who all nod in agreement.

“Bokuto-san I’m ok-”

“Nonsense Akaashi, you look one rally away from fainting on the court,” he argues, his voice is stern, commanding even. Still, his eyes hold the mellowness that Keiji likes so much.

“Bokuto’s right Akaashi, you look exhausted,” Komi ads, patting Keiji’s back.

The coach doesn’t question the decision, and so, Keiji’s switched out with another setter. He sits on the bench and drinks water to alleviate the irritation he feels on his throat. He watches as both teams play. Their opponent is strong, but Keiji is confident that they are going to win. Even if they lose the second set they could still go all out on the third.

As predicted, they do lose the second set. Somewhere almost at the end, Keiji excuses himself to go to the bathroom. He can feel the flowers gathering at the base of his throat and he doesn’t need to cause a scene in front of a whole audience with his disease. Keiji kneels in front of the toilet and coughs out as much as he can. He realizes that the count has increased to eight, which means he’s close to starting to cough up the whole flowers. It fills him with fear, but under the circumstances he’s in today, he also doesn’t care too much. Making sure to flush the petals and rinse his mouth from the metallic taste of blood, he walks back to the gym, and back onto the court, more determined to make every point count.

☆☆☆

They win. It’s a tight scoring but they manage to push forward. Victory tastes good on Keiji’s mouth, a feeling different from the ones he had been experiencing lately. They all celebrate as they walk back to the clubroom, shouting and jumping around.

Eventually the buzz dies down and one by one each teammate shuffles out of the clubroom to go back to their homes and rest. Since they have to close up the clubroom, Keiji and Bokuto are the only ones left. Keiji’s heart beats loudly in his ears. He pushes back all need to cough up petals because _this is it, I have to tell Bokuto-san._ Bokuto’s voice interrupts his train of thought.

“Akaashi, lately I’ve been seeing all these peony petals,” he informs him, stressing his point by picking a small pink petal from the floor. Keiji stands there frozen, unable to answer. Bokuto turns to him with a playful smirk, “did you tell someone about my favorite flower?”

“H-huh? Umm, no I-I haven’t told anyone” Keiji stutters clumsily, mentally scolding himself for it. Bokuto continues to stare at him with suspicion. Sweat gathers in Keiji’s hands and the air in the room begins to feel tense. However, it dissipates quickly when Bokuto shrugs and turns to his locker. Keiji takes that moment as an opening and calls out for the other. “Umm Bokuto-san.”

“What’s up?” Bokuto asks, taking off his uniform so he can change into more comfortable clothing. Keiji avoids looking at the other boy in favor of keeping control of his thoughts.

“The reason why there are many petals is the same reason I wanted to talk to you earlier,” Keiji explains. He too, begins taking off his uniform and changes, trying to appear nonchalant.

“Oh yeah what is it?” Bokuto inquires. Once Keiji has changed, he hears Bokuto’s locker door close and his steps approach. A hand settles on his shoulder using it to spin him around and face Bokuto, “Are you okay?” concern seeps into his voice.

Only then Keiji realizes he’s _shaking_. He shakes his head.

“The truth is, I’ve been debating to tell you this for a while,” Keiji starts, avoiding eye contact. He looks down and fiddles his fingers, “but in the end I thought it was better to come up with the truth.”

“Akaashi you’re scaring me,” Bokuto states, voice low and soft, trying to coax Keiji out of the walls he had been setting up the past week.

“I-” Keiji starts, he clears his throat and gulps, pushing down a wave of petals. He speaks up again, “I have the Hanahaki disease”

Keiji is met with silence. He doesn’t dare to look up to see Bokuto’s expression. He feels the hand on his shoulder tighten its hold.

“Who is it?” Bokuto’s voice is so stern, it takes Keiji by surprise. He looks up and is met with conflict in the other’s eyes.

“W-what?” Keiji squawks.

“Tell me who is it,” Bokuto repeats, “You have to tell them Akaashi, if not you’ll only get worse.” Keiji scoffs, _as if I didn’t already know that_. Despite it, he utters a soft ‘you’.

“Akaashi, I can’t hear you,” Bokuto says.

“IT’S YOU!” Keiji shouts, pushing Bokuto away, he scrubs his face with both hands, “Who else could it be?” he questions.

He’s once again met with silence, and now Keiji isn’t as confident of Bokuto’s answer as he had previously been. He sneaks a look at the older boy and is met with an expression full of shock, and a glint of _pity_ in eyes. Keiji’s stomach drops.

“At least say something,” Keiji demands softly, leaning against the lockers for support. He’s starting to feel nauseous.

“I- I’m sorry Akaashi,” Bokuto stutters out, flailing his hands around. He takes a step towards Keiji who just flinches in return, not caring if his hurt is written on his face. Bokuto halts in his tracks. “I… I don’t feel the same, you’re my best friend.” He explains. Keiji closes his eyes, eyebrows drawn together in exasperation.

“B-but, the flowers, and this past week…” Keiji mutters in disbelief, more to himself than to the other boy. He had read it all wrong.

“I did it without thinking okay?” Bokuto defends himself, raising his hands.

Keiji stands against the lockers, not meeting the third year’s eyes.

“Look Akaashi, I think you should, umm, get the surgery,” Bokuto suggests, raising a hand to scratch his head. Keiji can easily feel Bokuto’s discomfort. It all makes him feel worse. He coughs but stops himself before he can spill all the petals in the room and worsen the situation. Still, one petal comes out, gracefully landing on the floor, Bokuto stares at it with wide eyes. How it’s his favorite flower’s petal the one tainted in red. He turns back to look at Keiji, “I don’t want you getting worse” he states.

Keiji knew it was a possible outcome, yet he was slightly confident that Bokuto felt something for him. Now he just feels ridiculed, and Bokuto’s words have only managed to rub salt on the wound. Keiji wants to laugh, he wants to cry, scream and demand why doesn’t Bokuto like him back. But he does what he thinks any good friend would do. He stands straight, gathers his things and starts walking to the exit. He stops by Bokuto’s side and offers a small, sad smile.

“Thank you Bokuto-san, I’ll be sure to take it.”

He doesn’t feel proud of lying, but by this point he doesn’t care. With that, he walks out of the clubroom, leaving the older boy behind.

He doesn’t speak to Bokuto the whole weekend.

☆☆☆

If there was one thing Keiji dislikes, it’s lying. Generally, he prefers avoiding the truth altogether instead of straight-front lying to somebody. But there was something in the way Bokuto rejected him that didn’t seat well with Keiji. Something the older boy was missing. And if finding that missing piece meant Keiji had to extend the idea of getting the surgery, then so be it. During the weekend, he had reached the third stage. His room was a mess of pink and red and in all honesty he is pretty surprised at how he has managed to keep the disease a secret from his parents. Keiji figures he still had a few days before he reaches the final stage, so he has to be quick about whatever he is going to do with Bokuto.

When Monday rolls around, Keiji avoids practice and extra time with Bokuto altogether. Except for their usual morning walk, in which Keiji explains to Bokuto that he can’t stay for practice because he has to “rest from the surgery”, he has been avoiding any interaction that implied the third year boy. It’s mainly to prevent him from triggering Keiji’s disease and sending him spiraling to the bathroom to throw up (which would definitely look suspicious to Bokuto), and to think of how to make the other come to his senses that _maybe_ he does feel something beyond friendship for Keiji. And this was it, Keiji is risking his life on a ‘maybe’, but he would be damned if he gives up without a fight.

So that is what Keiji does. He slips out of class before the other comes looking for him at lunch, coming up with excuses that he has to study for exams (because they really are just around the corner), and not going to practice. The latter is the hardest to do because Keiji loves volleyball. He hates missing practice but, the more time he spends around Bokuto the worse his disease gets. And the more time Keiji avoids him, the more desperate Bokuto becomes in reaching out to him. It is like that all week until Wednesday comes around.

On Wednesday, things take a turn for the worse. Bokuto manages to snatch Keiji away for lunch and as they were walking out the door to go to their usual spot, Keiji being pulled by the wrist by Bokuto, they are stopped by someone. That someone being Fujiwara Aiko. Keiji immediately feels his blood run cold.

“Umm, Bokuto-senpai?” she calls out, one hand reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear, “can I speak with you?”

Keiji closes his eyes and gulps, he knows where this is going, it’s obvious. Bokuto looks surprised, but agrees nonetheless. He turns to look at Keiji, narrowing his eyes and jabbing him in the chest.

“You better be here when I get back,” he mutters as he walks out, following the smaller girl.

Keiji waits until they are out of sight before running off to the bathroom. He locks himself up in one of the stalls and begins throwing up the familiar petals, blood spluttering all over the toilet. He reaches out for paper to wipe his mouth and the mess he has made. Keiji counts the petals. Ten. Ten mean that he is a few days or hours away from reaching the final stage. He closes his eyes and bangs his head against the door behind him. Briefly, the image of Bokuto leaving the classroom with Fujiwara flashes on his mind and it is enough to cause another round of throwing up. Another ten petals. The toilet looks like a swirling paint of pink and red, with blood splattered at the edges. He cleans himself once more, and when he’s sure he isn’t going to throw up anymore, he flushes the toilet. He walks out to wash his hands, and rinse out his mouth too, getting rid of the blood excess.

When he walks back to the classroom, Bokuto is there waiting. Keiji expects him to be angry at him for not being there, but Bokuto looks like he’s in a good mood, which only means one thing. Keiji is considering going back to the bathroom and locking himself up when Bokuto calls out for him.

“Akaashi let’s go! I’m starving!” he approaches him and drags Keiji out of the classroom. They walk in silence to where the rest of the third years on the team are waiting for them. Keiji’s itching to ask Bokuto about Fujiwara, but at the same time he also dreads the answer. In the end he has the courage to speak up.

“Did she confess to you?” Keiji asks, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible. The last thing he needs is Bokuto picking up on his discomfort and realizing Keiji had in fact, not taken the surgery.

“Yeah she did,” Bokuto confirms, smiling. It’s all it takes for Keiji to know what’s coming next, “I- uh- I accepted it,” Bokuto states sheepishly.

“Good for you,” Keiji says and offers Bokuto a small smile he hopes looks more reassuring than it feels, because if Keiji is being honest, he thinks he might be breaking a little inside. This is bad, not only had Keiji read wrong the situation once again but now there is a giant wall with the name of Fujiwara Aiko that blocks his path and screams at him to give up.

“Yeah she’s really sweet,” Bokuto ads, more relaxed. He was probably fearing that Keiji would react in a bad way, but since Keiji had ‘taken the surgery’, there is no reason for him to feel that way. Even if all he wants to do is scream at Bokuto and demand how could he accept the confession of a girl he barely knew and not his own. “We’re actually going to have lunch together tomorrow.” Bokuto comments.

“I hope Konoha-san doesn’t give you too much shit about it,” Keiji teases, making Bokuto groan. They fall into a light conversation afterwards. Keiji’s heart clenching when he realizes that misses being like this with Bokuto, but now they had this cloud of lies and untold things hanging above them and he was the only one who knew.

They reach their usual spot with the others, and Bokuto makes his big announcement. The rest of the team congratulate him, save for Konoha who complains that it isn’t fair that Bokuto had ‘stolen his girl’. No one seemed to mind the fact that Keiji had skipped lunch with them for the past few days, though he does receive a few concerned stares from Komi and Sarukui. It worries Keiji that they might know what’s going on with him. But if they do, they don’t say anything.

That afternoon, when Keiji reaches his house; after he has thrown up another lot of peony petals while sitting on his bathroom floor, he cries. He cries and lets it all out, cursing his disease, cursing at Bokuto, but mainly cursing at himself and his stupid feelings. He thinks back to the conversation he had with his grandmother when he was seven, the first time he learned about the Hanahaki disease. He thinks back to how she had wished for him not to get the disease. It makes him cry harder because _I’m sorry nana, but I ended up getting it._

That night, Keiji cries it all out. Every pent up frustration that had built up in the last weeks, and every disappointment he has faced.

☆☆☆

The rest of the week is dreadful. Thursday morning had Keiji listening to Bokuto talk about what a funny girl Fujiwara is because apparently they had exchanged phone numbers and spent yesterday’s afternoon and night texting. Keiji thinks it would’ve been sweet if it didn’t literally make him sick.

After parting ways at the entrance, Keiji walks to the bathroom to cough out the usual bout of petals that came along with walking to school with Bokuto. Except this time, it feels worse, he feels his throat expand painfully, as if something bigger is crawling up. When he finishes throwing up he stares petrified at the perfect pink flower swimming in the water. He shivers and goosebumps rise all over his skin. With dismay, Keiji realizes that he is at the disease’s final stage, and if he doesn’t do anything soon, it’s going to end up badly for him.

☆☆☆

Without Bokuto there, Keiji finds it pointless to go out for lunch. It isn’t that he doesn’t get along with the other third years, but without his boisterous captain things don’t always flow too naturally. So he spends his lunch holed up in the bathroom throwing up more flowers. He briefly considers going to the infirmary so he can get sent home, but decided against it. Keiji prefers telling his parents about his situation in the privacy of his home.

Except he doesn’t get to tell them. He doesn’t know what makes him back out, but dinner passes without Keiji uttering a single word about the disease that was killing him. He goes to his room, coughs up more, cries himself to sleep, wakes up and coughs up more flowers, all without the courage to tell his parents about it.

That’s how he finds himself walking up to school with Bokuto droning on about his lunch with Fujiwara and ‘Akaashi! Did you know she sometimes goes to watch our matches? She’s really something else’ and Keiji can’t take it anymore. So instead of lashing out at Bokuto to shut up, he tunes him out, his mind everywhere but where it should be.

And it’s during recess, when the girls of his class are all surrounding Fujiwara’s desk and fussing over Bokuto, that Keiji’s body and mind can’t take it anymore. So without warning, his body acts on his own, making him spill flowers and blood all over himself in front of his classmates. Until his body collapses.

☆☆☆

“Ah Bokuto?” Sarukui asks upon seeing the boy walking into the gym ten minutes late, “I thought you were going to check up on Akaashi.” Bokuto halts in his steps and furrows his eyebrows.

“Check up on Akaashi where?” he questions in confusion. The other third years look at each other with worried expressions. Bokuto walks closer, dread setting at the pit of his stomach, “Saru, where?” he demands.

“The hospital,” blurts out Konoha, looking mildly irritated, “I know it’s not my business but lately you guys seem more distant, especially now that you got a girlfriend.” Bokuto ignores Konoha’s jab at the last part, his mind only concentrating on the word ‘hospital’.

“Hospital?” Bokuto asks, barely audible.

“One of the second years told us,” Komi says approaching Bokuto and placing a hand on his shoulder, “He collapsed earlier during recess.”

“You did notice that lately he wasn’t feeling well right?” Sarukui asks, scrunching his eyebrows, “Komi and I noticed and we wanted to talk to him about it. Apparently he has the Hanahaki disease.”

“Of course he wouldn’t notice,” Konoha says glaring at Bokuto, “he’s now too busy being sappy with his new girlfriend to notice his _best friend_ was feeling like shit.” He remarks as his finger collides with Bokuto’s chest accusingly.

“What hospital is he in?” Bokuto asks. Komi, has the decency enough to tell him before he sets off running, grabbing his jacket and making his way to the hospital as fast as he can. He curses internally, he doesn’t know what pisses him off more. The fact that Keiji had deliberately _lied_ to him or that he hadn’t noticed his friend’s worsening situation.

☆☆☆

If there is one situation Keiji would’ve liked to avoid, it’s the one he currently finds himself in. He had made his mind about not reaching the final stage of the disease, but something about Bokuto’s rejection spurred him on to keep trying. That is, until Bokuto got a girlfriend.

And so, Keiji now finds himself on a hospital bed with his parents right there. He can see the fear etched into their expressions, and guilt starts to pool at Keiji’s stomach.

“Keiji, why didn’t you tell us about this?” his mother asks, taking hold of his hand. Her eyes are brimming with tears and she’s shaking. Keiji looks down in shame, not quite letting her hand go, “and don’t tell us it was because you didn’t want us to worry.” She scolds. His father takes a step forward and sighs.

“Keiji, you know how this works, you either tell the person or you get the surgery” he reminds him. Keiji grimaces, he _knows that_. He knows that he was supposed to take the surgery a week ago, maybe even before that, but he couldn’t just let go of his feelings for Bokuto. He doesn’t want to stop reveling in the warmth and comfort the other naturally exuded or the way his smile could light up the room. Keiji doesn’t want to stop caring the way he had been doing all along.

“I already told the person,” Keiji explains in a hushed voice, with his free hand he grips the white bedsheets covering his legs, “they don’t feel the same.”

“Then why didn’t you tell us to get the surgery?” his father inquires, he wasn’t angry, but Keiji can distinguish the light disappointment in his voice. It makes him feel worse.

“Because I thought I still had a chance.” Keiji whispers, closing his eyes at the familiar sting of tears.

“Your situation only worsens when you face rejection,” his mother explains, her other hand caressing through the messy locks of hair, “You’re going to get the surgery now.” She declares.

“I’m sorry,” Keiji tells them, tears slipping out his eyes and sliding down his cheeks. His shoulders shake as sobs rack through his body, “I’m so sorry, I-”

The door opens abruptly.

“AKAASHI!”

Right there stands no other than Bokuto Koutarou, hands on his knees as he takes deep breaths. He’s in his volleyball uniform, sweating from the exertion. Almost as if he had run from the school to the hospital on a whim.

“Bokuto-san?” Keiji chokes out, staring at the older boy wide-eyed. If there is one way to make his current situation worse, it’s to add Bokuto to the mix.

“Ah, Koutarou-kun!” his mother exclaims looking at the door, she turns her gaze back to Keiji and offers him a small smile. She stands up and pulls her husband along, walking to the door, she turns to look at both Bokuto and Keiji, “we’ll go tell the doctor you’re getting the surgery.” She informs them.

With both of his parents gone, Keiji knows what is waiting for him. If there is another emotion Bokuto was sporting besides shock, it was anger. Keiji looks away from him and grimaces, the air around the room feels tense, full with dread and several unspoken emotions. Bokuto steps into the room, closing the door and making a beeline for Keiji’s bed. He stands there, unmoving. Keiji can feel him staring holes at the side of his face.

“Bokuto-san I-” Keiji begins, but is quickly interrupted.

“YOU’RE AN IDIOT!” Bokuto screams out.

Keiji shuts up, he turns to look at Bokuto, surprised. It’s rare thing to see Bokuto so angry. Usually, no matter the situation, Bokuto tends to face his problems with an optimistic attitude. But this doesn’t seem to be the case.

“I can’t believe you lied to me about something as important as this!” the older exclaims, his hands clenching into fists at his side. Keiji can hear the _hurt_ in his voice, “You could’ve died Akaashi!” he tells him. Keiji scoffs and looks away once more.

“As if you care,” Keiji mutters, his hands fisting his bedsheets.

“Of course I care!” Bokuto reasons, he takes a sit on the chair by Keiji’s bed. Bokuto reaches out for his hand, taking it and holding it tightly, bringing it close to him. Keiji feels tears well up in his eyes, “You’re my best friend!”

“STOP IT!” Keiji shouts, turning to look at Bokuto, he pulls his hand away from the other, wiping at the tears that manage to come out. “I don’t want that, _not from you_ ,” Keiji comments as he closes his eyes.

Silence envelopes them once more. Keiji hates it, hates how his relationship with Bokuto has turned into _this_. That even if Keiji took the surgery now, nothing would go back to the same because Bokuto knows. He knows that Keiji’s feelings go beyond his own self-preservation, that he is willing to risk his life if it meant he could love Bokuto Koutarou a few minutes more. The quietness stretches and Keiji feels as if an eternity has passed before Bokuto speaks up once again.

“Why did you lie?” he questions, his voice coming out as s hushed whisper.

“…I still had hope that,” Keiji gulps, and felt the familiarity of flowers blocking his airways. He fights it, pushing the feeling down because if he doesn’t speak with Bokuto now, he won’t have another chance, “that maybe you’d come around, but then you accepted Fujiwara’s confession and this got worse and-” Keiji buries his head in his hands, letting out a choked sob.

“I’m sorry for neglecting you,” Bokuto says softly, he looks at Keiji with guilt in his eyes, “but I told you before Akaashi, I- I can’t return your feelings.”

“I know,” Keiji remarks, making an effort to control his shaking body, to stop the tears from flowing, “I’m idiot for keeping on hoping.”

“I don’t understand it,” Bokuto says, running his hands through his hair, “Why me?” he questions, looking at Keiji for answers.

“Why not Koutarou?” Keiji exclaims, his heart clenches, his throat welling up with peonies once more. He coughs up two, blood dribbling on the side of his mouth. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Bokuto flinch, staring wide-eyed at the pink flowers he loves so much. Keiji laughs humorlessly, he doesn’t look at Bokuto and opts to stare at his shaking hands, “you’re such a lovable person, with your ridiculous hair and ridiculously sweet personality. Despite your childish antics and mood swings you’re the loveliest person I’ve ever met. You light up any room you come into, and pull any person out of their pits of darkness. You’re bright and rambunctious but can be serious when you need to be. And I love that, love every aspect of your personality. _Love every part of you,_ ” Keiji whispers the last part, but it’s loud enough for Bokuto to catch it.

“B-but how?” Bokuto askes pulling on his hair, clearly distresses, “I still don’t get it.”

“That’s how love works,” Keiji explains, wiping his eyes. He continues to avoid looking at the other, “you fall before you know it,”

“And how do you know?” Bokuto asks once again, he reaches out for Keiji’s hand before deciding against it.

“It just feels right,” Keiji states, finally turning to look at Bokuto with a sad smile. Right then, something flashes in Bokuto’s eyes, but Keiji doesn’t dare to hope anymore. It had only brought him despair until now.

“It feels natural doesn’t it?” Bokuto inquires, this time, when he once again reaches for Keiji’s hand, he takes it. Keiji doesn’t have the strength to pull away, “as natural as breathing.” He speaks up once again.

“How do you feel about me Bokuto-san?” Keiji asks, his cold hand clenched on Bokuto’s warm one.

“I don’t know,” Bokuto admits sincerely, briefly looking down before looking back up at Keiji with determination in his eyes, “I just know you’re very important to me and I wouldn’t want to lose you.”

Keiji bites his lip and remains quiet, staring at their hands linked together and thinking about Bokuto’s words.

“Can I just ask for one thing?” Keiji says, tear welling up in his eyes. It’s the one side of him that he doesn’t want Bokuto to view, but as desperate as he was, it’s his last straw in this uphill battle that is his love for Bokuto Koutarou. Bokuto just nods, “can I kiss you?”

Bokuto freezes, his hands stiffening around Keiji’s own and for a moment, Keiji dreads that he might have managed to fuck up what is left of their crumbling friendship. He looks into Bokuto’s eyes, searching for an answer, yet the other boy is quick to look down. Keiji gulps, feeling a knot on his throat, caused by something other than the deadly pink flowers that have been killing him slowly. He is about to mutter an apology and come up with an excuse when the other boy looks up at him, golden eyes dripping honey and warmth. Bokuto mutters a soft ‘okay’ and it’s all it takes for Keiji to move.

He cups Bokuto’s face, his hands trembling due to the lack of oxygenation in his constricting lungs, but more to the thrill of the moment, and leans in. His lips meet Bokuto’s in a soft, tender kiss. Warmth pressing against each other and conveying things that could not be said. _I’m sorry. I love you._ Keiji’s lips open to softly suck on the other’s bottom lip, feeling warm and happy in a way that he hasn’t managed to do in these past weeks. Bokuto’s hand cups one of Akaashi’s trembling ones, his thumb brushing against the calloused skin that has hardened with years of volleyball practice. He leans in further into Keiji’s embrace, his other hand sliding down Keiji’s arms until it settles at the base of his neck. He tilts his head further in, parting his lips in welcome to the new sensation.

Akaashi Keiji had imagined his first kiss with Bokuto Koutarou under a less tragic circumstance than the one they are in. Probably on the clubroom after a satisfying match. Nevertheless, in the present he finds himself in, with his arms moving away from Bokuto’s face to gently round his neck and caress the hair at his nape, he can’t ask for more. Because this kiss isn’t the type you give out of pity on your friend’s dying wishes, and maybe, just maybe it might help Bokuto realize what has been there all along.

Keiji’s lungs complain at the lack of air and they pull away with a gasp. Bokuto raises a hand to caress Keiji’s face, his thumb brushing away the stray tears that had managed to slip away from the younger’s eyes. His golden eyes exude so much warmth, Keiji is reminded of hot summer days and training camps, of eating watermelon in the afternoon with all his teammates. It’s comfortable in a way Keiji has never felt, yet so familiar all at once. He picks Bokuto’s hands and brings it to his lips, planting a soft kiss in his palm.

He opens his mouth to mutter something when he feels the familiar feeling of being breathless. Only this time, he truly is breathless and finds himself fighting for air. The flowers are there, spilling onto the bed and painting it pink and crimson, covering everything in a way that makes him lightheaded. His heart monitor is picking up and he can barely make the sound of Bokuto’s shout for help. The nurses and doctor rush in, frantically wheeling him out of the room to take him to the operating room. He barely manages to make out the blur of his surroundings and for a moment Keiji’s enveloped in warmth.

He’s met with the sight of him and Bokuto at his house, both spread over Keiji’s bed after a successful day of practice and studying for exams.

_“Akaashi,” Bokuto calls out to catch the other’s attention._

_“Yes Bokuto-san?” Keiji asks, looking away from the volleyball magazine he was reading, upon noticing Bokuto’s serious expression he decides to set it aside, turning on his side to give the other his full attention, “what is it?”_

_“You know I consider you my best friend right?” Bokuto asks in a hushed voice, he’s not looking at Keiji._

_“Yes,” Keiji says and reaches out for Bokuto’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “I consider you my best friend too.”_

_Bokuto turns to look at him and despite the fading sun dripping on his room, bathing them both in gold, Keiji is met with a storm in Bokuto’s eyes._

_“Promise me that if anything bothers you, being it small or big you will tell me,” Bokuto pleads, his voice barely breaking but holding so much emotion it takes Keiji’s breath away, “I wouldn’t want to lose you.”_

_In that one afternoon, despite the laughs shared hours before, and the jokes and sarcastic remarks, Akaashi Keiji and Bokuto Koutarou find themselves staring into each other’s eyes, a typhoon of emotions reveling between them. Worry, anxiousness, and a twinge affection. In that one afternoon, Keiji grips both of Bokuto’s hands and holds them tight, afraid that if he lets go, he’ll lose Bokuto forever, and mutters._

_“I promise.”_

How foolish of Keiji to have forgotten that one promise, the one that mattered the most. He closes his eyes, and even with the flowers blocking his airways manages a deep breath. A single tear slides out of his right eye. Taking his life along with it.

☆☆☆

Akaashi Keiji is taken to the operating room at 4:17 p.m.

At 4:28, the doctor approaches his parents to deliver the news.

At 4:30 Koutarou finds out.

He falls on a chair, silent. And for once in his life, he curses himself for being late. Perhaps, if he had realized earlier Akaashi might have not suffered so much. He might have been laughing in his arms, bathed in affection. He might have held Akaashi’s delicate hands, the same ones that set so many winning points for him.

But he was late and those delicate hands were cold now. And he couldn’t help but feel, that all of this was his fault.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, please don't hate me. I hope despite this you still enjoyed it. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated. (pls)
> 
> My amazing friend made fanart [here](https://twitter.com/Nsr2Art/status/1245490299171938305?s=20) go give her a follow and some love.
> 
> If you wanna drop by and chat, rant, complain, fangirl over Haikyuu (pls be my friend (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ) here's my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/squeakyotter).  
> Util the next fic! ヾ(≧∇≦)ゞ


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